Read Mama Rides Shotgun for Free Online Page A

into your voice. But that doesn’t change the fact that there’s nothing noble about sleeping on the cold, hard ground inside a tent that stinks of mildew.’’ Mama pouted. “And I still don’t see why we couldn’t rent us a nice little pop-up camper to bring.’’
    “Because the original Florida cow hunters didn’t have campers, Mama. Or heated horse trailers. Or recreational vehicles. The ride is supposed to honor our Florida pioneer history. It ought to be authentic.’’
    “Yeah? Well, I notice you don’t mind doing your business in the portable potties the Cracker Trail Association hauls along.’’
    A low chuckle sounded behind us, coming from the food trailer.
    “Your Mama’s got you there, darlin’.’’
    We turned to see a strapping older man with a full head of wiry grey hair. Stacks of paper plates and napkins in plastic bags nearly hid his face. Mama’s hand flew to smooth her ’do. She tried to get a glance at her reflection in the generator used to power the electric lights around the chuck wagon.
    “The first Florida Crackers didn’t have disposable utensils, neither. Nor wet coconut cake nor cold banana pudding for dessert,’’ the man said. “But that hasn’t stopped anyone with a sweet tooth from trying to weasel seconds out of my servers.’’
    “Why, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure,’’ Mama said, eyelashes fluttering in time to her words. “I’m Rosalee Deveraux, and this is my middle daughter, Mace.’’
    He shifted the paper goods away to reveal his face. Strong cheekbones. A cheerful smile, which stopped just short of his dark eyes. “Hell, Rosalee, I’d never forget you! I’m Johnny Adams. Remember, I moved away to Sebring during high school?’’
    Mama’s flirtatiousness disappeared, replaced by a mournful tone. “Oh, Johnny! I’m afraid I have some awful news about Lawton Bramble. I know y’all were as close as brothers once.’’
    A hard look flitted across his face. “That was a long time ago, Rosalee.’’
    “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, standing right here by the food trailer.’’ Mama glanced around, like there might be a better spot for breaking bad news. Then she blurted out, “Lawton’s gone, Johnny. He had a heart attack and died.’’
    She reached out a comforting hand, but Johnny didn’t seem to need it. When Mama revealed that Lawton was dead, the hard look never left his face.

The big campfire roared, sending sparks into the night. Johnny Adams stared at the white-hot logs as they collapsed in the flames. His face was unreadable. Mama said he’d been as close as a brother once to Lawton. What memories was he calling up out of that fire?
    “All right, then. We need to tell the trail boss,’’ Johnny finally said. “He’ll bring everybody together, and we’ll make the announcement about Lawton just before dinner.’’
    “I’ll go and tell him,’’ Mama said. “Jack will probably have some questions about how it happened and all.’’
    I pictured Jack Hollister, our trail boss, trying to get a straight story from Mama. She might get distracted onto a tangent about Wynonna’s high-heeled boots, and forget to mention that Lawton was dead.
    “I’ll come with you,’’ I said to Mama.
    ___
    “Well, I for one am shocked that Lawton and that new wife aren’t nowhere to be seen. You’d think they’d have been out here to greet us by now.’’
    The whisper in the dinner chow line came from a middle-aged cowgirl whose bottom was too broad for her jeans.
    “Oh, I’m sure he would have been here, strutting, if not for that young wife,’’ sniffed her companion, a woman in a Western-style blouse and tight permanent curls. “She’s probably convinced him to take her out for caviar in Palm Beach instead of coming out to stand around here, serving Cow Hunter chili to a bunch of ol’ Crackers.’’
    I was about to set the gossipy pair of them straight, but Mama put her finger to her lips and shook her